


Past Time

by juice817, semaphoredrivethru



Series: Past Curfew [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juice817/pseuds/juice817, https://archiveofourown.org/users/semaphoredrivethru/pseuds/semaphoredrivethru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the Quidditch World Cup, Bill and Oliver have to see each other again.  One more time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Originally posted March 11, 2007._
> 
> This is it, folks. The last installment of Bill and Oliver's story in this series. We had entertained the notion of a series when we were talking about writing Past Curfew, but hadn't been serious. Who would want to read a wizarding parallel to QaF? Well, besides us, that is. Turns out that the answer to that is a lot of people, and we are both so very, very grateful for all the encouraging and wonderful feedback. We squee when people leave comments yelling at the boys, you know.
> 
> Still to come: Nigel's story. Oh, Nigel, you lunatic.

~~~*~~~  


  
Something had to change.

Oliver almost never smiled any more. Angie could still get a faint grin from him, but he mostly just felt raw inside, as if he had no laughter left. He held on to the thought of playing professionally, of being away from Hogwarts with all its memories. And Weasleys . Time heals, his mum used to say, but not when it seemed there was red hair and freckles everywhere he turned. And Terence. Oliver ached at the thought of Terence as well, and of the hurt he'd caused there. He'd completely fucked up twice, and Oliver pressed on through the end of term with a grim determination to have it _over_ and done, to move on and to keep his heart to himself from now on.

Finally, _finally_ , May ended and June began, bringing the end of school and the beginning of the rest of his life. Oliver thought he'd feel only relief as the train pulled out of the station in Hogsmeade for his last trip to Kings Cross, but there was a large part of him that wanted to stay. In spite of the great things the future held for him, there was a healthy dose of fear for the unknown, and Oliver was silent, throat tight, as the train picked up speed and headed south.

 _Dear Terence,_

 _  
I should have told you. I thought by keeping him in the past and to myself that I was putting him behind me but it's not at all the same thing. You deserved so much more than I gave you, or could give you, and I'm writing because I need to tell you one last time that I'm so sorry. I wasn't fair to you, but I loved you. I just couldn't let go of Bill._

 _I hope you find someone better than I am. If you ever need anything, even if it's just Quidditch tickets, owl me. I'll do anything for you. You gave me so much, things I didn't even know I needed. You'll always own part of my heart._

 _And I'm done being a girl, promise. I don't expect you to answer, but I hope someday you can think of me in a good way. And I was serious about the owl - if you ever ever need anything._

 _  
Love always,_

 _Oliver_

Oliver cornered a Slytherin firstie at Kings Cross and sent the sealed note off with him, charmed to shock the little wanker if he tried to open it or didn't deliver it to Terence, hugged Angie tightly for a very long time and then left without a word. His mum and dad were in the Americas somewhere, and Oliver was staying in London for a couple of weeks before heading to Puddlemere . He'd talked to the first string Keeper, who was an amiable sort and more than willing to show him the ropes a bit early. He moved into team quarters mid-June, mildly surprised to find at least half the team already in residence.

The "big boys", as Angie had called them, taught Oliver a lot about drinking and fans and, thank god for the last, hangover potions. It took Oliver longer than he was willing to admit to realise what that certain look in a bloke's eyes meant - he'd mistaken it for being Quidditch mad at first. It didn't take him nearly as long to realise that Quidditch mad was actually precisely what it was. Somehow it was easier, knowing whichever fan he'd chosen for a night or two didn't actually want _him_ , Oliver. He gave them Wood, new reserve Keeper, and if the sex was never quite as mind-blowing as having Bill inside him had been, then at least he was getting fucked regularly, heart intact.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The months between the first uncomfortable letter exchange and his trip home for the Quidditch World Cup lurched unevenly for Bill. Some days dragged on interminably; Oliver's letters, short and guarded, were not nearly enough for Bill to be half as certain as he'd have liked that this would work. But at the same time, there were stretches at a time where it seemed as though Bill had only just blinked and a week would have gone by. He muddled through though, and held on to the things that Oliver didn't say, to the sudden end of the references to Oliver's boyfriend.

It was enough for Bill to keep going and to be able to smile at Nigel's terrible jokes. He still went out now and then, finding release with the occasional bloke that never, _never_ had brown hair and broad shoulders and a kissable upturn to his nose. There were no dates or promises or anything to indicate the fundamental change Bill felt deep within, but he knew that what he needed was more than any of those nameless blokes could offer, and more than what Oliver could likely give just yet, either. Not that Bill had any business asking for it, anyhow.

He put his name in for consideration for transfer, knowing it would likely be ages before the Goblins and their paperwork could make any sort of real progress. And there was no guarantee that he'd even get the transfer, much less to any sort of position above shuffling papers. But at the same time, Bill knew he needed to try, to find a way to be home; some part of him prickled unpleasantly at the thought of what was to come. Bill's father had told him, in a carefully-worded letter that would give nothing away to someone who wasn't close to their family, about the truth of Sirius Black and who Percy's old rat had been. That someone so evil had been among them for so long made Bill nervous, and it tweaked his need to watch over his younger brothers and sister; he felt ridiculous for not having any more solid reasons, but he couldn't deny that he worried still. Worried about young Ron and little Ginny, about his parents and Nigel. Worried about Oliver.

By the time August rolled around and Bill was packing his bags to go home, to visit his family, watch some Quidditch and lobby for his transfer home, it was with a quiet sort of determination that he cinched the ties shut and shouldered the strap. This might have just been a visit, but at the same time Bill knew that there was so much more weighing on it. He wondered if he'd see Oliver at the Cup, if Oliver would even talk to him after all. Bill _itched_ to see the kid again, to have the chance to see if that strange connection they'd once had would still be there, if he'd still have to fight to keep his hands to himself like before. He was fairly sure he would.

Meeting Harry had been an experience. The kid had looked up at Bill like he was the coolest thing he'd ever clapped eyes on, an instant case of hero worship that bemused Bill more than anything else. It reminded him a bit of how Ron acted now and then, more so when he was littler, before puberty made him a moody little gobshite. But then they were at the campsite, and Bill's dad was quietly telling him about the upcoming Triwizard cup, suggesting he might want to get some time off to come visit for one or two of the tasks, especially since Charlie would be home when he came in with the dragons. It reminded Bill of just how much he was missing by living so far away, and he just smiled and nodded as he walked off to explore, content to keep his secret of the transfer for now.

Walking on an aimless, weaving path between all the tents, more and more haphazardly placed the further from the main thoroughfare he got, Bill let himself think about Oliver, wonder if he'd arrived with his team yet and where they'd be camped. Judging by the terse letters, Bill wasn't going to take the chance that Oliver might avoid him, not when he'd been looking forward to this for months. Even just to say hello, to see him again if not to touch and kiss and... his ears perked up as a familiar voice caught his attention.

 _Ollie_... Following the sound, turning his head, Bill finally saw him again and he could feel himself lighting up from the inside. God, it felt so good to see him again, and Bill had known it would be good, but it was even more than just that; he felt lighter, somehow. Younger.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Bill was walking up to Oliver, eyes fixed to the back of the younger man's head as he wiped his palms on his on his jeans and licked suddenly dry lips, leaned in and whispered in a low voice, "Surprise?"

Oliver nearly jumped, and he closed his eyes briefly before turning, afraid to hope, afraid he'd turn into that needy, grasping child who had scared Bill away. He knew that voice too well to even think it could be anyone else. _Bill_. After a slow breath Oliver turned to face Bill. He could feel himself light up and couldn't help it, although he did manage not to wrap himself around Bill tightly. Barely. He did move closer but curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out. "No," Oliver answered, just as low. "Actually, it's not."

The light in Oliver's eyes was better than Bill remembered and he smiled down at Oliver, warm and actually happy for the first time in absolute _ages_. "Miss me?" he asked, unable to keep from taking a step closer, needing to be in Oliver's space more than he needed breathing right then.

"Yes." The word escaped before Oliver could stop it, the _need_ that roared through him taking everything he had to control. His hands tightened in their fists and he breathed in deeply, nostrils flaring. That was a mistake; Bill's scent filled him, like coming home after years away, and Oliver choked back a sob as he stepped forward, into Bill, and slid his arms around the other man.

No one could have resisted that, and Bill didn't even try. He just pulled Oliver closer, folding around him and breathing in his smell. "I missed you, too," he whispered, not caring if both of his parents, all of his brothers and two of his great-aunts were to turn the corner and see them. Relaxing into Oliver, Bill sighed and nosed along Oliver's hairline, smiling faintly as he squeezed Oliver closer.

Oliver simply had no words. He closed his eyes and just breathed, realising how much he really had missed Bill now that they were holding each other again, the drought ended. How had he survived without this for over a year? Oliver laughed softly and pulled back, just a little, just so he could see Bill's face. "Hey," he said softly. His eyes travelled over Bill's face, seeing traces of worry in the corners of his eyes, the set of his mouth. Seeing the truth of Bill's words. Bill had missed him. Oliver smiled and nuzzled Bill's nose with his own. He had completely forgotten that they were nearly in the centre of the largest crowd of wizards England had seen in decades.

"Hullo," Bill breathed back. Nothing - _nothing_ \- could compare to this feeling, he was dead certain. Instinct kicked in, and Bill completely forgot about his private promises to wait until they'd had a chance to finish getting to know each other as adults, forgot about everything but Oliver. Bill tilted his head and covered Oliver's mouth with his own, kissing him softly at first, and then pressing closer, harder, deepening the kiss as the noise of the crowd around them faded off into the distance.

Oh god. Oliver melted into Bill, opening to the kiss, returning it greedily. No one tasted like Bill, no one ever managed to completely rob Oliver of all sense with simply a kiss, and he'd missed the freedom that came with giving over totally to someone else simply because he had no choice. No one drew the sounds of need from Oliver's very depths the way Bill did. "Bill," Oliver gasped, and dived into another kiss, and another.

"Mummy," Oliver heard faintly over the roaring in his ears. "Why is that man kissing that boy?"

"It looks more like the boy's kissing the man," a man's voice said dryly, and a woman's voice answered, "Just for that, you can explain it to Kevin."

Bill froze, and then nipped at Oliver's lower lip. "Let's get out of here," he murmured, arms tight around Oliver's solid body as he Apparated them away, popping back in right under the stands. From the noises above them, it sounded like there was a game of pick-up Quidditch going on. Not, really, that Bill cared; they were mostly alone now, and that was all that mattered. "Ollie..." he groaned, kissing down Oliver's neck as he slid one hand down to cup the firm globe of Oliver's arse.

"Bill," Oliver answered breathlessly, head falling back to offer his throat for anything Bill wanted to do to it. He pressed the length of his body into Bill's, tangling one hand in the long red hair he'd missed so much. "Missed you, missed this," he muttered, "god, _Bill_."

"Yeah," Bill said, lips fastening over Oliver's pounding pulse. "God, so much." Hand flat between Oliver's shoulder blades and the other squeezing Oliver's backside, Bill insinuated a leg between Oliver's thighs, backing him against a wooden support beam. "Need it," he gasped, and licked at Oliver's lips, sliding his tongue into the younger man's mouth with a ragged sound.

Oliver rocked into Bill's thigh and sucked his tongue. He'd forgotten, completely, maybe intentionally, how fast Bill could make him burn, had refused to think about how much hotter the fire was when fueled by long freckled fingers and a hint of desert. Oliver reached up to grab Bill's face in both hands as his hips rocked again. "Fuck me," he demanded, voice raw with need. "Fuck me now."

"God yes," Bill panted, stepping back enough to tug Oliver's t-shirt up and off. Hands busy releasing the flies of his own jeans, Bill kissed along Oliver's bare shoulder, pausing when he encountered a well-worn leather thong about Oliver's neck. Bill smiled, an expression that would have been wistful if not for the burning in his eyes, and kissed the bird pendant once before backing off and shoving his jeans down to mid-thigh. "I want you," he said, his grip white-knuckled about his wand as he waited for Oliver to finish undressing.

Oliver stepped out of his jeans and leaned back against the support beam again, watching Bill hungrily. "Then take me," he said. He reached down and wrapped one hand around his own cock, lightly stroking the hard length.

There was no way Bill was going to be able to concentrate enough to cast magic with the vision of Oliver, toned and muscled and unbelievably gorgeous with his cock in hand, right there in front of him. "Cast it," he ordered roughly, handing his wand over. When Oliver took the wand, Bill yanked his own t-shirt off, tousling his ponytail, the long red strands tangling around his dragon fang earring. Then he reached out and covered Oliver's hand with his own, squeezing him more tightly.

The smirk that had curved Oliver's lips when Bill handed over his wand disappeared when Bill squeezed him. His fingers tightened around the handle of the wand and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, forcing himself to focus long enough to cast the necessary charms. He'd gotten good at them, with all the groupies, and unconsciously included the protection charm so crucial to an anonymous fuck. "I'm ready," Oliver rasped, dropping the wand and cupping Bill's arse instead. Oliver leaned forward and took the dangling fang into his mouth and sucked once before letting it slide from between his lips. "Are you?"

"You bet I am," Bill growled, lifting one of Oliver's legs, hooking it up over one freckled hip. Grabbing Oliver's arse, Bill picked him up and pressed him against the beam, the cheering of people watching the game distant as Oliver wrapped his legs around Bill's waist. He'd noticed the extra charm, and Bill was glad Oliver had been playing it safe, even though it felt strange to have it between them. Oliver was more aggressive than before, too, and Bill might have been intrigued if he weren't so bloody hot for the younger man just then.

With a deep kiss, Bill shifted and pressed the head of his cock into Oliver's body, groaning. "Fuck, gorgeous," he gasped, pushing in a little deeper.

"Bill," Oliver gasped, the last of the smirking attitude he'd been trying to put on as he always did for sex anymore dissolving under the burning stretch of Bill's invasion. "Oh god, that's good." It was such a cliche, but fuck, no one filled him like Bill. Oliver tightened his legs, encouraging Bill to give him more, muscles contracting around the hard length of cock convulsively to pull it in.

"Ollie..." Bill groaned, and shoved in the rest of the way with a grunt. Being inside Oliver, having Oliver's arms around his shoulders, it made him burn with need, and Bill could barely concentrate as he moved in and out, pulling back slowly and thrusting in hard. He coaxed Oliver's tongue out, stroking it with his own as they fucked, rocking against each other. "Fuck, missed this," he rumbled. "Missed _you_."

Oliver rocked into Bill hard, unable to take control but trying, needing more. He was desperate for Bill; it had been so goddamn _long_ since he'd felt anything even approaching the rush of pleasure that ripped through him with each hard thrust. "Fuck me," he begged. "Fill me. Make me come."

Bill growled and thrust harder, the gorgeous sounds of Oliver's moans and whimpers, so honest and hot and fucking _perfect_ , filling his hearing as he moved. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, and Bill was drowning in how good Oliver felt. There was no way he was going to last much longer, and Bill knew it. It had just been too fucking long since he'd felt this god-damned _good_. "Yes," he panted, moving so hard by now that Oliver was jerking in his arms with each thrust. "Feel so fucking good..." With one hand under Oliver, Bill used the other to grab the younger man's cock, pumping him up and down, squeezing, stroking, pulling. "Come for me."

"Yes," Oliver moaned, "god, I can't -" He gasped sharply, eyes going wide and blind as orgasm slammed through him suddenly. Stiffening, Oliver shook and spilled over Bill's hand, crying out as he clamped down hard on Bill's cock.

Nearly howling, Bill shuddered, thrust once more, and fastened his teeth to Oliver's shoulder as he tumbled after, coming in a flash, emptying into Oliver with hot spurts. "God, Ollie!" he whimpered, lost in sensation and completely unable to understand how he'd managed for so long without this.

The sharp sting of Bill's teeth in the muscle of his shoulder sent another hard wave of pleasure through him, and Oliver collapsed weakly into Bill, head falling to Bill's shoulder as he continued to shake. He felt drugged from pleasure, and vaguely resentful that he'd been shown so clearly that no one else would ever measure up. Part of him had planned on letting Bill go, moving on, and now he knew he never would. Oliver slowly unwound his legs from around Bill, letting them fall so he could try to help support his own weight, although his knees still felt liquid.

Bill cradled Oliver close, holding him upright. "Easy there, gorgeous," he murmured, one hand stroking gently up and down Oliver's back. Soon enough, he'd have to let go and come back to earth. Soon enough, they'd be collected enough to _talk_ about things, and Bill didn't know how he was going to explain that now he wanted what he'd been offered so long ago. He didn't know if Oliver would even let him have it now, anyhow; now that he'd fucked around, Oliver would know Bill wasn't the be all and end all. He sighed and kissed Oliver's hair, damp with sweat. "God, Ollie..."

"You keep saying that," Oliver said, trying to keep the growing grumpiness from being audible in his voice. He was afraid of what Bill would say next, afraid of what would happen the next time he tried to fuck someone else. Afraid he'd proven he was still the needy child Bill so definitely hadn't wanted. Oliver pulled away from Bill and bent to grab his jeans. He felt suddenly _naked_.

Blinking in confusion, Bill buttoned up his own jeans automatically as he worked through the confusion. Oliver always liked to cuddle, liked to be held and touched and kissed until they could fuck again. But not now, it seemed, and Bill wasn't going to think about why that was right at the moment. The sight of Oliver pulling on his jeans - no pants, Bill noticed - almost physically hurt. "The fuck's your problem?" he asked instead, the words tumbling out hoarsely.

"Nothing," Oliver muttered. The t-shirt was next, his abs rippling with the movement of his body as he bent to grab it, tugged it over his head. _I still love you. I'm so sorry._ Smoothing his hand over his short hair, Oliver took a breath and let it out slowly before leaning back against the beam again with a casual smile that didn't reach his eyes. _Be an adult,_ he told himself fiercely. "You're just as brilliant as I remember. Thanks."

The bottom dropped out of Bill's stomach at that. A part of him reckoned he deserved it, deserved to be used by Oliver, but it still nearly knocked the wind out of him. It was all Bill could handle to cough once and choke out a "Thanks," before snatching up his t-shirt and shaking it out with a vengeance. "Glad I could scratch your itch."

Oliver didn't understand the bitterness he heard so clearly in Bill's voice. He wasn't clinging, wasn't being a baby. What the fuck did Bill want? "And _how_ ," Oliver said, "glad I could return the favour." Oliver wanted desperately to cling now, wanted to take the few steps to the other man and wrap himself around him, and just hold. Letting his smile widen, Oliver put all the lazy satisfaction he still felt into the expression. "Let's do this again some time. Soon."

For a moment, Bill was tempted to agree, to play it just as cool as Oliver. But his heart wouldn't shut up as it told him no, told him this wasn't the man he'd come here to win back. Bill sighed, his shoulders slumping briefly before he gathered himself back together again and shook his head.

"I don't think so," he said firmly, forcing a casual coolness to his voice. "I'm not looking to be or have a fucktoy, thanks ever so."

"Well, things certainly have changed, haven't they?" Oliver tried to maintain his mask of casual confidence in the face of the gnawing terror that was growing in the pit of his stomach. "That's all I was to you last year." Oliver bit his lip and tried to shut up before the bitterness in his own voice choked him, but he heard the words that kept coming as if they came from someone else. "If you're not interested in another fuck, well, there are plenty who are. I'll just go find my team now, and there'll be a fan for sure who'll make me scream tonight."

This was not at all how Oliver had imagined things, wanted things, even when he'd wanted to let Bill go. He was sure it would be casual, and friendly. And then, when Bill had seemed to want him so much, Oliver had thought wildly that if they could just start fucking again he'd not ask for more, he'd just take what he could get this time and be a fucking adult about it. But he didn't understand the look on Bill's face, the hurt in his eyes, as if Bill wanted something Oliver wasn't offering. He almost stepped forward and grabbed Bill, wanted to beg him to just say what he wanted. Oliver would give him anything, do anything, if only he could have Bill again. But apparently Oliver had misread things again.

Wiping a hand over his face, Oliver turned to go, forcing himself to keep moving even as he wondered when or even if he would ever understand other men.

"You're the only one who's allowed to change, then?" The words tumbled, hard and nasty, from Bill's mouth. Apologies and explanations died on his lips as he pulled his shirt on and tucked his wand into his back pocket. "Fine then. Go on and enjoy your Quidditch whores. Bend over for them and beg them like you beg me. Have a fucking ball, Oliver."

Oliver wanted to scream at Bill, to turn around and hit him, hard. He didn't understand what had happened, why things had gone so wrong when literally minutes ago they'd been as close as it was possible to be to each other. He took two more steps and then did just that, whirling around and moving with lightning speed to shove Bill in the chest with both hands.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he yelled right in Bill's face. "You're the one who said it's just fucking. You're the one who told me to go fuck other blokes." He shoved again. "You're the one who said I was a child. Well, you're right. You're right! Love isn't worth it, it doesn't fix anything. All there is is just fucking, so I fuck whoever will have me, and I'm an adult about it." Oliver threw up his hands in frustration, closer now to choking on his own pain than he'd even been before. He gave Bill a wounded look, full of the pain and confusion he felt, and just left, Apparating almost violently just to get _away_. He ended up on the other side of the pitch somewhere, just into the trees, and dropped to the ground. He curled up tight as he could and cried.

Bill blinked at the empty space Oliver had left, almost tempted to follow him, to explain and somehow make things better. But he was beginning to understand, finally, that maybe things couldn't be fixed between them. He'd bollixed the start of it all up, and this ending was his own fault. Oliver was just as damaged now as Bill, and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Nigel asked Bill if he was proud of himself now that Oliver had gotten the lesson.

Woodenly, Bill cast the various charms to clean himself up, though he could still taste Oliver on his lips and feel him against his skin. Then he walked out from under the stands only to bump into Percy, who leant in and very quietly whispered that if Bill was wanting to keep his sexuality a secret from the family, then he might want to not snog Quidditch players in the middle of the campground.

"They heard about it, then?" Bill asked, voice tired. A part of him had hoped that his big reveal would be when he had an actual significant other to introduce to the family, and another part of him had even wanted to never have them find out at all. But then again, Bill knew that the truth would have had to come out some day, and so would he.

Percy shook his head. "No," he said. "The fellow that told me, he came to me because I'm your brother and friends with Oliver. I just said that it wasn't anyone's business but yours who you snogged, and that gossips never had happy endings." He paused, a slightly hurt look crossing his face. "Hadn't known you and Oliver were together..."

It was Bill's turn to shake his head. "Over before it began," he just said in a tired voice, and squeezed Percy's shoulder in a one-armed hug. "Come on, then; there's a bloke over there with things for the Irish, and I reckon I owe you at least one souvenir for being such a brilliant little brother."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oliver eventually stopped crying, although he stayed curled into himself for quite some time after. It occurred to him that he was going to miss the game, and he realised with a dull sense of shock that he didn't care. Nothing mattered any more, not even Quidditch. But Quidditch really was all he had now. He wanted desperately to go back to his parents' tent, to have his mum hold him and tell him everything was going to be fine like she had when he was just a wee lad, but then he'd have to explain about Bill. Besides, he knew nothing would ever be fine again.

At some point he wiped his face with the back of his hand and uncurled to stand. He could hear the roar of the crowd and knew the game was underway, and judged it safe to pop into his parents' tent and wash a bit. He was right, the tent was empty. With a sigh of relief he quickly used the loo and washed his face. Oliver felt sticky under his clothes but didn't take the time to strip and fully wash. It was sort of disgusting, really, but at the same time he couldn't bear to wash away the last traces of Bill. Not yet.

"You look like your best friend died," the mirror said to him softly.

"Close enough," Oliver said numbly. It would be easier if Bill really were dead, but Oliver's heart stopped at the thought and he shoved it away with a shudder. More cold water on his face and then Oliver left the tent to make his way to the pitch. By the time he quietly eased into the box where his team had gathered he felt almost human, and he let the thrill of the game fill the hole inside him as best it could. He wished desperately that he were playing, or at least flying. He needed his broom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time the game was over Oliver was completely caught up in the excitement. The Irish had won in spite of Krum, who was wicked fast and completely brilliant. The team captains were already talking about how to add some of the plays and moves both sides had used into their own game, and Oliver was already looking forward to the next practice, the next game.

Oliver thought it was just raucous celebrations all over outside the team tent until one of the coaches came inside, face white. "You Know Who," he gasped, "it's him. It's _Death Eaters._ "

 _Bill._ Oliver jumped to his feet, spilling the firewhiskey he'd held loosely in one hand. Even knowing it was insane, that there were so many people gathered who would be running in terror that actually finding Bill would be next to impossible, Oliver shoved his way out of the tent, looking around wildly in search of a tall beautiful man with long red hair. He could see the chaos he'd expected, the chaos he'd never before seen in his life. He could see the line of masked men and the trail of destruction they left behind. There was so much noise Oliver could barely hear his own voice over the crowd when he screamed, "Bill!"

There were so many people pushing and running and shoving. Someone's elbow caught Oliver in the ribs and he doubled over, gasping, which gave someone else's elbow the perfect angle. It caught Oliver directly in the temple and his eyes crossed as he collapsed, unconscious.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	2. Chapter 2

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

People were screaming. Pushing. Running. Bill went against the tide, Percy and Charlie hot on his heels. They had to save those Muggles , had to stop the Death Eaters. There was a brilliant flash of green, an explosion off to Bill's left, shaking the ground. _Oliver_... he thought, almost frantic as he pushed on ahead. _Stay in your tent. Stay safe, love. Please._

Close enough to hex, Bill could see the blank white masks, the flowing black robes, and he remembered grainy photos from his childhood. He remembered stories of murder, of torture, and Bill threw hex after hex, his voice mingling with his brothers' and father's. If it was starting again, he would going to fight. He'd fight, side by side with his family and the dark would never have a chance to win.

Something heavy and wooden struck Bill, knocking him back into Charlie as the skin on his arm tore, dripping blood, but Bill only switched wand hands and kept going. He could still walk. He could still fight.

The night lit up bright green and everyone, even the Death Eaters, froze as they looked to the sky. The great, evil constellation of the Dark Mark hovered above, its serpent-tongue flickering as though to taste their souls. And the world, already in chaos, exploded around them; screams of terror and the cracks of Disapparation, the frail bodies of Muggles plunging to the ground. Bill jerked his wand, cushioning their fall and catching them, his magic mingling with that of at least a dozen other wizards.

The threat was gone, but the Dark Mark still lit up the sky malevolently, and it wasn't until that was long gone that Bill even halfway dared breathe easier. Around him, people were trembling and calling out for each other, helping those wounded in the explosions and stampede to the medical tents that had already gone up. At least one thing about the Ministry was efficient these days, Bill couldn't help but reflect as he turned out of the way of a scared knot of young men, their faces pale and glowing in the meagre wandlight. No one seemed all too keen on lighting a wand too much, as though it would only bring the nightmares back again.

In the tangle and confusion, Bill tried to slip away, to look for Oliver. But Charlie stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You'd better take care of that, big brother," he said, nodding at the wicked gash on Bill's forearm, and that was when Bill finally realised he was still bleeding and that the world was a bit funny about the edges, thanks to the blood loss. He refused to be taken to the makeshift field hospital, and instead let his brothers guide him back to the tent. Bill staggered between them until Charlie pushed him down at the small kitchen table and Percy appeared with a bedsheet , wrapping his arm. Percy's nose was swollen and still bleeding from some blow or another, but Bill could only think of one thing amidst all the whirling worry in his mind.

"Perce," Bill mumbled when Charlie's back was turned. _"Oliver's out there."_

"I know," Percy said, just as quietly. "But you're in no shape..."

Just then, Fred and George stumbled in, Ginny in tow and all three as pale as ghosts under their freckles. They all knew about the Dark Mark, knew what it meant for them, and Ginny looked like she might be sick. Bill knew she was probably thinking about that diary, about being possessed by young Voldemort , but he couldn't summon much more than a tight smile for her as they all sat in silence, waiting for the others. When they arrived, when Bill's father told them what had happened, Bill knew then that he had made the right choice to ask for the transfer. Strange, deadly things were about, and he'd be useless so many thousands of miles away.

By the time they'd all bundled back off to bed again, this time for only a few hours, Bill'd recovered some from the blood loss. He stretched out on his cot, listening to Charlie's snores, and then sat up quietly, pulling on his boots. He had to find Oliver, had to make sure he was all right. Glancing around, Bill saw Percy watching him from the shadows, and knew he was going to owe his middle brother one hell of an explanation later, but for now he just nodded and ducked out into the cool night.

The air smelt of fire and sweat, a faint tang of terror underneath it all even as people were settling into uneasy sleep and quiet gatherings by muted lamplight. Hours ago, they had all been filled with celebration and good-natured mourning, but now it all just seemed so ridiculously petty. Digging in his pocket, Bill pulled out a small piece of stone, hanging from a tangled leather cord; the mate to Oliver's pendant, it was how Bill would find him now. Providing, of course, Oliver hadn't taken it off after their row earlier.

Bill cast the charm and closed his eyes as he let the magic guide his Apparation. He landed in the trampled and filthy remains of someone's tent, stumbling and barely catching himself in time. Looking around, Bill felt a cold sweat break out across his brow, and he wiped at it with his arm, hissing when the move pulled at his make-shift bandage. "Ollie?" he called, poking at the debris about him. It looked like much of the terrified crowd had run through here, and Bill felt a hard knot of fear low in his gut. "Oliver, are you here?"

There was a faint but familiar groan, just off to the right, and Bill homed in on it at once, running as he neared and saw a prone and filthy body on the ground. "Oliver!" Bill fell to his knees, cupping the side of Oliver's face and pulled him up. "Oh god, wake up. Please, love, wake up for me," he begged, forgetting he was a wizard in favour of just running his hands over Oliver, checking him for injuries. There didn't seem to be that many but for the goose egg-sized lump on the side of Oliver's head, and Bill relaxed, though only marginally. "Wake up, love. Let me see those gorgeous eyes of yours," he murmured, stroking the undamaged side of Oliver's face. "Wake up for me."

He could hear Bill's voice, both tender and intense, and knew then that he'd died. Oliver groaned and shifted and thought maybe not dead; dead couldn't possibly hurt this much. "Bill?" he mumbled. His tongue felt too thick to move. Swallowing, Oliver tried again. "Bill." Oliver forced his eyes open, blinking slowly. He tried to sit up but the world spun, and he grabbed at Bill, hands curling around his biceps. "Wha'?" Still blinking slowly, Oliver looked up to see dried blood splattered over Bill's face. Still unbelievably dizzy, Oliver reached up with one hand to search for the source of the blood. His mind hadn't registered that dried blood probably meant no gaping, life-threatening wound. "Bill," he said frantically, "there's blood."

Oliver couldn't seem to sit up straight, and he was wobbling where he sat, so Bill grabbed him, sitting on the ground as he pulled the younger man into his lap. "It's just from my arm, love," he said, kissing the tip of Oliver's nose, relief flooding through him. "I'm fine." He kissed Oliver on the mouth. "You're fine. Thank god," he went on in a choked voice, the words spilling out unchecked. "Don't do this again, baby. I don't think I could take it." He kissed Oliver again. "I'd thought I'd lost you for real."

"Didn't do it on purpose," Oliver grumbled, kissing Bill back, clinging tightly. "You're hurt." Dizzy and confused, Oliver started to cry silently, tears rolling slowly down his cheeks. "You didn't want me. I'm sorry, Bill, I can't help it."

"I had to find you," Bill said, clinging right back and trying to calm his pounding heart now that he had Oliver in his arms and he was safe. "I always wanted you, baby. So much I couldn't see straight," he whispered, kissing Oliver's nose and pulling back enough to look into dazed eyes, dark in the shadows cast from Bill's wandlight . "I love you. So much. And if you scare me like this again, I swear I'll kick your arse. Leave me all you want, but don't take away all my hope, Oliver."

Oliver stilled, as best he could with the world still spinning around him, and stared at Bill. "You think I'm a child," he finally said, even as the hand still curled around Bill's arm moved up to cup his face. Oliver had both hands cupping those lean cheeks now, and he was blinking owlishly as he tried to focus. "I don' wanna leave you," he mumbled. "Don' make me leave you again. I love you too. You don' believe me." Oliver slowly toppled forward, hands still on Bill's cheeks, body leaning as his head came to rest in the crook of Bill's neck. "Love you," he muttered under his breath. He had to tell Bill before Bill left, or made him go, or made him stop saying it. "Love you, love you, love you, love you."

Bill gathered Oliver close. "You're not a child," he said, shaking his head slightly. "You're a brat. But you're my brat, and I love you, so I'm going to have to deal with it and take you all in one package."

"Your package." Oliver let his hands drop from Bill's face, wrapping his arms around Bill's neck instead. He was crying again, and he closed his eyes. "Foolish dreams wrapped around lust," Oliver mumbled. "Dated other blokes. Didn't leave them smiling, though. _Sorry._ "

" _Ollie_ ," Bill sighed. He was starting to get worried about Oliver's mumbling and rambling, worried that he might be seriously addled from whatever had knocked him out. "I'll tell you what: we can go over the many things I was so bloody stupid about later, and I promise I'll apologise for every last one. For now, I think we need to get you to a mediwizard and have that bump on your head looked at." He kissed Oliver's hair and rubbed his hands up and down Oliver's back. "Can you stand if I'm helping, love?"

Oliver pulled back enough to meet Bill's eyes. "If you're helping," he said seriously, "I can do anything." And then his eyes rolled and he went limp as he passed out again.

"Dammit," Bill muttered. He didn't know what had happened, and couldn't risk harming Oliver further by hitting him with an Ennervate. Instead, Bill stretched Oliver out on the ground and levitated him with a delicate charm. He didn't like leaving Oliver unconscious, but it was the best Bill could hope for, since there wasn't much of a chance he'd be able to carry Oliver all the way back to the others. The sky was lightening by the time Bill reached the freshly erected medical tents, telling him better than any watch that it was nearly time to slip back to his family.

"What happened to him?" the mediwitch asked as she strode out of the tent to meet Bill, taking over the mobilicorpus spell skillfully and levitating Oliver into the tent and on to a cot. "Was he hit by a curse?"

"I don't know," Bill said, shaking his head. He followed Oliver's unconscious form and stood beside his cot, looking down at him for a moment before turning back to the mediwitch . "He was out when I found him, woke up for a bit. I noticed he was pretty confused, and it got worse before he passed out again." Judging by how he hadn't been shoved out yet, Bill was choosing to assume that things weren't nearly as bad as they seemed. Really, it was the only thing keeping him together. "He's got a bad bump on his head, too," Bill added, kneeling to brush his fingers down the line of Oliver's nose before he'd realised he'd moved at all.

The mediwitch raised both eyebrows but didn't comment, merely raised her wand and moved it slowly above Oliver's prone form. "No curse," she murmured, mostly to herself. "Bruising here," and she indicated Oliver's left side, then moved to more closely examine Oliver's head. After several long seconds she nodded. "Nasty concussion. I expect he was walked on, or at least kicked, during the panic. Help me get his shirt off, it's filthy, and I need to see the bruises."

Bill nodded and pulled up on Oliver's shirt, undressing him for the second time that day. His movements were smooth and practised, but Bill couldn't help but flinch when he saw the bruises. "Ollie," he sighed, settling Oliver back again, more gentle than even before.

"Thank you," she said, and then reached out and grabbed Bill's arm tightly. "He's fine, or will be shortly. What happened to you?" Holding his injured and bloodied arm in a viselike grip, she picked at his makeshift bandage with her free hand, quickly unravelling the knot.

"There was an explosion," Bill said with a shrug. "It stopped bleeding a couple of hours ago."

"You should have come in before that," she muttered irritably. It took just a few seconds for her to heal the deep gashes, and she shot him a disgusted look as she let go and turned back to Oliver. "You should clean yourself up, too. You have blood everywhere."

"I had more important things to worry about," Bill said, and grabbed one of Oliver's hands, brushing a kiss over his knuckles, since he was afraid anywhere else might hurt Oliver more. Standing up straight, Bill had the grace to blush as he looked at the mediwitch. "Thank you," he said, ducking his head slightly.

She softened enough to smile at him. "You're welcome," she said. "Your young man will need rest for awhile, he's quite battered. He'll be very sore, but he should be coherent again once he wakes." Reaching out again, she patted Bill's arm this time instead of grabbing it, and then took her wand up to begin working on Oliver. She winced in sympathy as she hovered over his side. The bruising began to fade. "Definitely kicked," she said, voice disgusted.

Muttering under her breath all the while, the woman slowly worked her way up Oliver's body, the bruises fading in her wake, until she reached a mark on his shoulder rather obviously caused by teeth. Her mouth twitched as she fought back a smile, but she didn't comment. She did, however, leave the mark alone, her expression smoothing into concentration again as she began the delicate work on Oliver's head.

After several long minutes, she sighed out a breath and stood. "He'll sleep for several hours, love, you may as well go rest yourself. I can wake him when you come back for him. You are coming back for him?" she finished, one eyebrow raised.

Bill paused, looking at Oliver and letting himself relax now. "Somehow, I always do," he said at last, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He bent and kissed the tip of Oliver's nose again, hovering for a moment before kissing him on the mouth, too. "I'll see you soon, pet," he whispered. "I promise." Then Bill Apparated away, blinking back into being only a couple of tents down from the one his father was standing in front of. Fortunately, Bill had his recently fixed arm as the perfect excuse for going missing, and Arthur only nodded grimly as he too suggested Bill clean up.


	3. Chapter 3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Impatient in this as in most all things, Oliver woke up on his own later that day, fighting the remnants of the spell meant to keep him resting until Bill arrived. He blinked at the ceiling of the tent, having no idea how he'd got there and uneasily sure he'd dreamed Bill in the dark and the mud with blood all over. He didn't honestly remember very much of it, dream or not, but distinctly remembered Bill saying _I love you._

Yeah. Dream.

Oliver closed his eyes at the familiar wash of pain, wondering what he was supposed to do now that he'd made Bill mad again, and learned that he'd never be able to let Bill go. He pushed the thought and the pain away and began to stretch, carefully cataloguing each ache and twinge, focussing on the physical pains instead of the emotional ones. There weren't many, thank Merlin, and Oliver was glad someone had found him and that a mediwitch had fixed whatever had gone wrong.

Arms raised, Oliver slowly reached up, then reflexively contracted into a ball on his side as soon as he'd reached full extension. That had _hurt_ , right under his ribs, and Oliver sighed out a slow breath. It could be worse, he reminded himself, he'd be fine and flying again in a couple of days.

"You're supposed to still be asleep," Bill said, stepping into the tent in time to see Oliver curling up in pain. Brow furrowed in concern, Bill sat on the edge of Oliver's cot. His hands fluttered about uncertainly for a moment before landing in his lap. "How're you feeling?"

Oliver's eyes flew open, although he stayed curled on his side. "Fine," he said quietly. His hands twitched, but he managed not to reach for Bill. "What, er, why are you here? Where is here, anyway?"

Bill wanted nothing more than to pull Oliver into his arms and just hold him, but at the same time, Bill didn't know if that would be allowed. Emotional confessions and life-threatening situations were entirely different than the next morning. "You're in a temporary medical tent," he explained, instead. "And I'm here to get you, since I got the feeling when I brought you here last night that the mediwitch would have my bollocks for breakfast if I let you take up space for too long." His lips quirked up in a small smile and he finally reached out and curled his fingers over Oliver's forearm. Oliver was wearing a jumper now, and Bill wondered where they'd gotten one on such short notice, being as Oliver's t-shirt had been ruined the night before. "You scared the hell out of me, passing out like that, Oliver."

Oliver's arm tensed, and his gaze focused almost desperately on Bill's face. "It wasn't a dream?" he whispered hoarsely.

Air rushed out of Bill's lungs and he leaned closer, his hand sliding up Oliver's arm. He knew that look in Oliver's eyes, that feeling of being almost afraid to hope. "No, baby," Bill breathed, needing to see that light in Oliver's eyes. "It wasn't a dream."

"Tell me again," Oliver begged. He sat up carefully, afraid now that _this_ was the dream. If it was he didn't want to wake up. " _Please_."

"It wasn't a dream." Bill shifted closer and cupped the back of Oliver's neck as he let a wide smile spread across his face, his gaze clear and steady. "I love you," he said finally, laughing softly because of how much he needed to say this every day for the rest of his life. " _I love you_."

Oliver lunged at Bill, wrapping his arms tightly around Bill's neck. He was not ever letting go. "Oh god." Oliver blinked rapidly. He would _not_ cry. "Oh god. I thought you hated me. I love you so much and I thought you'd hate me forever."

Arms around Oliver as snugly as he dared with the recent memory of how badly Oliver had been injured, Bill rocked slowly. "Shhh... I never hated you, love," he said, turning his head to kiss Oliver's hair. "I didn't know what I wanted, I was bitter, I was a coward... but I never hated you."

"You were so mad." Oliver turned his own head to kiss Bill's neck. "I didn't know how to keep you, how to be what you wanted without being what you didn't want. And after Terence..." Oliver's voice trailed off and his breath shuddered out in a sigh. "I couldn't do that again."

There was a brief pause as Bill tried to understand Oliver's babbling, not sure if this was just emotions tangling around sense or if his head was still messed up from before. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Bill finally confessed, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have made you feel that way, though."

Oliver choked out a laugh. "I'm rambling," he said, shifting to press his forehead to Bill's, one hand cupping his face. Oliver's thumb ghosted absently over freckled skin. "I thought you didn't believe in love," he murmured after several seconds of just _feeling_ Bill there, holding him close.

"I didn't have much of a choice but to believe in it when it bit me in the arse," Bill whispered. "I tried to let you go, Ollie. But I couldn't, and I was seven kinds of a fool to think I could." He tilted his head and kissed Oliver softly, sighing against his lips. "I love you."

"I love you. From the first time I saw you, that was it. It took a little longer realise I could never belong to anyone else," Oliver said, lips turning down as he thought of Terence again. So much hurt. He closed his eyes and kissed Bill again. "Don't let me go," he breathed.

"That's my Ollie," Bill said fondly, kissing him again. "Always so dramatic." But he still tightened his arms a bit more, mindful of Oliver's ribs as he continued, serious now. "I can't let you go. And I won't."

Oliver relaxed into Bill, content to silently hold him and be held for several long minutes, but eventually he shifted a bit and bent his head to rest it against Bill's shoulder. "What happened yesterday?" he asked softly. He didn't want to bring up the fight, not really, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to understand, and keep it from happening again.

Bill sighed and stroked Oliver's back. "I want _you_ , not just a fuck," he said at last. "And it hurt like hell to think you'd changed so much that all you wanted was my cock."

"I thought that was all you'd give me." Oliver frowned. "I keep fucking up," he muttered, and then a bit louder, "I didn't want to scare you off again."

"It'll take a lot more than that," Bill murmured, kissing Oliver's hair absently.

Pulling back, Oliver met Bill's eyes. "I hope so," he said. "I can't help how I am, how I feel. It hurts when I'm not with you. I realised yesterday it always will. But I'll try not to be so obvious." He laughed wryly. "I think it will help that I have a real job now."

"It... it kills me to see you hurting," Bill said, trying to shrug off the nakedness of that statement. "To know it's my fault because I'm there in the first place." He flushed and nuzzled Oliver's nose, kissing the upturned tip. "It's why I..." he trailed off, the both of them knowing he meant it was why he skipped out on Oliver over a year ago.

"No," Oliver said softly but earnestly, unknowingly echoing Nigel's words of the year before, "because you're leaving. Not because you're there." Oliver lifted his face to kiss Bill again and then again, intending a light brush of lips in comfort but unable to pull away from the taste and feel that was uniquely Bill. With a small needy sound, Oliver deepened the kiss, tightened his arms around Bill.

Which was, of course, exactly the point at which the mediwitch came bustling back into the room, expecting to find the Weasley boy waiting with his sleeping young man and not to see the two of them wrapped around each other. "Well," she said dryly, "I see you're feeling much better, which means I need the cot you're in. Scoot. You don't want to do that here anyway."

Laughing softly, Bill broke off the kiss and dropped his head to Oliver's shoulder for a second before pulling away reluctantly. "Yeah, all right then," he said, giving the mediwitch a winning smile. With one more swift kiss, Bill untangled himself and stood, offering Oliver a hand up. "Besides, I'm sure your team's worried about you."

Oliver let Bill help him up and leaned against the other man, more to maintain contact than because he needed the support. He smiled a little shyly at the mediwitch. "Thank you," he said, assuming she was the one who'd healed him. "I think I bumped my head."

She grinned back at him. "And your ribs," she agreed, "and you should be a bit more cautious to keep it from happening again. You've a hard head, but not _that_ hard." With a soft laugh, she made shooing motions with both hands, herding the two men out of her tent.

"So," Oliver said and grinned at Bill as they walked away. "We can't go to my parents' tent, and probably shouldn't go to your family's tent either." He bumped Bill companionably. "Other ideas?"

Bill stopped in his tracks. Of course Oliver wouldn't know about the mass exodus of that morning. "Ollie, most everyone's gone home already," he explained gently. "No one wanted to stay if they didn't have to. Not after someone cast the Dark Mark last night."

Oliver stopped too, mouth working soundlessly. "Dark Mark?" he finally managed. _Dark Mark?_ What in hell had he missed? "What happened last night?"

Quietly, quickly, Bill explained what had happened and what his father had told him happened with Mr Crouch's elf. Leaning close, head bent, Bill added that it had been Harry's wand that had cast the Mark, sending the crowd into full-on panic. He gestured at the scattered and sagging tents around them, abandoned and ruined, and sighed. "To put it simply," he said, "the whole bloody world went pear-shaped last night."

"Fuck." There didn't really seem much else to say, and Oliver looked up at Bill helplessly. "He's really back, then? You Know Who, I mean."

Bill shook his head. "We don't know," he said, cupping the side of Oliver's face and stroking his cheek with one freckled thumb. "It could just have been an isolated incident. But at the same time, I can't help but think about how there are very few true coincidences."

Oliver leaned into Bill's hand. _I'm afraid._ He sighed and said out loud, "It's selfish, but I'm even more glad now we're fixed." He shivered at the thought of losing Bill permanently to a Death Eater. Then he shot Bill a look. "We _are_ fixed, right?"

"I rather thought that was what all the kissing and I love yous were about," Bill said, touching their foreheads together. He sighed and nuzzled his long nose along Oliver's. "But if he's back, I'm going to fight."

"I know," Oliver whispered. Bill wouldn't be Bill if he didn't, and Oliver shivered again. He was well on the way to terrified. "I love you," he said as he pressed himself chest to knees to Bill's warmth. "I need you so much."

"Shhh..." Bill said, kissing Oliver gently, holding him. He understood, knew he'd be just as worried if their positions were reversed. "Love you."

Oliver took a deep breath and forced himself to just _stop_. Stop imagining worse and worse scenarios, stop letting himself feed the panic that wanted to build. He was an adult. Yes, the possibilities - probabilities - were frightening, but they weren't insurmountable, and more importantly, they weren't happening right now. There was time. Time to prepare, time to fight. His breath sighed out slowly. Time to love. He kissed Bill back, light, tender brushes of their mouths together, almost more nuzzling than real kisses. "I want to make love with you," Oliver murmured.

That sounded like an absolutely perfect idea, and Bill rumbled wordlessly in agreement, tightening his arms around Oliver until Oliver hissed in pain. "Sorry," Bill breathed against Oliver's lips. Lifting his head, Bill looked around at the lop-sided and abandoned tents, trying to think of where they could go. He felt Oliver nosing at the freckled skin of his neck, nibbling temptingly, and Bill groaned softly. "You're bloody well distracting, Ollie," he said, grinning down at the younger man as he brushed a kiss over the tip of his nose. "How am I to find us a bed when you're doing that?"

With a soft sigh, Oliver pushed the memory of Terence kissing his nose away. He lifted his face to kiss Bill's lips, one hand cupping his face. "I would say sorry," Oliver murmured with a slightly smug smile, "but I'm not." Still, Oliver looked around too, as if a bed would materialise right next to them if he looked in just the right way.

Bill stroked over Oliver's face, wondering what had made him sad for a moment there. But it could wait until later. Right now, he wanted more than anything else a bed and soft sheets instead of the shadows of a Quidditch stand. Linens and pillows and room service, even. A slow grin spread over his face. "I know just the place," Bill said, smirking. "And I'll take you there. But maybe you should tell your team you're still in one piece, first?"

"Yeah, you're probably right." Curious where Bill was planning to take him, Oliver looked around vaguely and then pulled away. He grabbed Bill's hand and tugged him along as he made his way to the team's tent. Or where it had been - there was no sign that the oversize Puddlemere tent had ever been there. "Well." Oliver ran the hand not holding Bill's through his hair. "I guess an owl? As long as I make the next practice it should be fine."

"All right then," Bill said with a shrug. "We'll take care of that later." He pulled Oliver closer, back into his arms. "Now, about that bed..." Reaching around, Bill pulled out his wand and Apparated them into a dingy alley in the middle of London, feeling very pleased with himself for this particular idea. "I think you'll like this place," he said, grinning and pulling Oliver by the hand down the alley, toward the street.

Oliver followed, a slow grin growing over his face as he recognised the alley. Still, all he said was, "If you're there, I'll like it." He grinned even more widely and curled the fingers of his free hand into the back of Bill's jeans.

They stumbled into the lobby of the hotel Bill always used when he was in town, and Bill pulled Oliver close, wrapping his arms around him from behind as he walked them to the front desk. The girls behind the desk giggled at their antics, and Bill winked at them as he pulled his muggle wallet out, fishing for that strange piece of plastic that Muggles seemed so fond of paying with instead of actual money. Room taken, Bill grabbed Oliver's hand again, kissed their tangled fingers and dragged the younger man to the bank of lifts.

Blushing furiously, Oliver let Bill pull him into the lift and lunged at him as soon as the doors shut. He wrapped himself around Bill and kissed him, hard. "Why'd I have to be in front?" he asked, laughing, trying to kiss Bill anyway, both unbearably aroused and unbearably amused all at once. He was also horribly embarrassed. Thank Merlin those girls were Muggles and didn't know him or Bill.

"Because you're shorter," Bill said, grinning as he kissed back. "And because you've got a gorgeous arse that I can't get enough of."

"It's all yours." Oliver was still laughing, and still blushing. The laughter was fading, though, as the enormity of his feelings rose in his chest, bringing a lump to his throat. "All yours," he said again, "forever." The next kiss was more tender. Oliver sighed and licked his lips, pulling away slightly, trying to rein himself in a little. They were in the _lift_ , for god's sake. "Not that much shorter," he said, grin widening again, gaining a smug edge. He'd grown noticeably in the last year, filled out and toned up. And their quick fuck before the game hadn't really given Bill time to appreciate it.

Bill ruffled Oliver's hair. "Yes, you're growing up quite nicely," he said, hand sliding down Oliver's neck, along his shoulder. Bill let his eyes move head to toe, a slow smile of anticipation spreading across his face. " _Very_ nicely," he added, as the lift dinged, announcing their floor.

"I think I'm done growing now, though," Oliver said absently. He leaned in to kiss Bill one more time before pulling away and stepping off the lift. Flashing both a fast grin and the keycard he'd swiped from Bill's hand, Oliver disappeared down the hallway and into their room.

Snorting in amusement, Bill hurried to follow, his long legs eating up the distance as he caught the door just before it closed. "Starting without me?" he asked, one eyebrow quirked as he flipped the lock on the door, leaving the rest of the world to go hang.

Oliver shook his head, eyes dancing. He tugged his jumper off over his head, wincing just slightly as the stretch tugged at the sore spot under his ribs, and then dropped it so he could open his jeans. He gave up quickly, preferring instead to watch Bill move. "Just wanted to be ready for you, is all," he said as innocently as he could manage.

"Oh, is that all?" Bill laughed, pulling the tie out of his hair. Eyes drinking in the sight of Oliver's half-nude body, hardly injured at all now and not rushing to strip and fuck before someone interrupted them, Bill just stood there for a moment. "God, but you're so fucking gorgeous, Ollie," he finally said, licking his lips once. Then Bill shook his head and yanked his t-shirt up and off, throwing it across the room.

"M'not," Oliver muttered, blushing again, the colour spreading from chest to cheeks. "Not like you." Oliver moved to Bill, putting his hands on Bill's ribs and stroking slowly up over freckled skin. He bent and pressed his lips to the centre of Bill's chest. "I have _missed_ ," he said quietly and intensely, "so much, the way you taste." His tongue darted out to sample Bill's skin.

"The noises you make," Bill murmured, clever fingers opening Oliver's flies. "I've missed those noises. You've no idea." Finally, Bill got Oliver's jeans open, and cupped him, squeezing.

Oliver made one of those noises, mouth falling open to pant as pleasure washed over him. "The way you take charge. The way you make me need. The way you fill me." Another noise, and Oliver scraped his teeth over Bill's chest. "Please," he whispered helplessly. "Oh god, I missed you."

"So much," Bill agreed in a soft voice, and then wrapped his long fingers around Oliver's cock, pulling it out into the air and stroking him. "Touch me again, Ollie," he said, pulling Oliver's face up with his free hand, kissing him, scraping his teeth over Oliver's lips. "Touch me."

"Always." Oliver reached between them and fumbled Bill's jeans open, not wanting to stop kissing him long enough to look down to see what he was doing. With a laugh, Oliver finally managed to get his hand under the denim, fingers curling around Bill's cock. He moaned softly. "Yes. God, yes. Fuck me. I want this in my arse."

Bill couldn't help it; he chuckled breathlessly at Oliver's attempt at talking dirty. "That sounds like a brilliant plan," he said, pulling with the hand on Oliver's neck to get them over to the bed. "And I'll get to that. In a bit." He let go of Oliver's cock and pushed at his jeans, trying to undress his lover as quickly as possible. "For now, _naked_."

Oliver let go of Bill's cock so he could shove his own jeans off his hips and down until they fell to his ankles. Stepping out of them, Oliver reached for Bill's jeans and pushed them down too. "You too," he said. "I want you naked too. I want to feel everything."

Bill had to sit on the bed to pull off his boots and socks, but then he slid back and knelt in the centre of the bed, eyes fixed on Oliver as he crooked one finger. "C'mere, Ollie," he said in a low voice. It felt like it had been a lifetime since he'd properly explored Oliver and Oliver's body, and Bill was done with the waiting. He smirked, looking at Oliver with hot eyes, pupils gone wide and wild. "I want to taste you, pet."

Oliver went. He climbed on the bed gracelessly, gone awkward with need. He pushed Bill over and straddled him, bending to press his mouth to Bill's, nipping and licking. "I want you. I can't - please." It had been so long, the sex yesterday so fast and then they'd fought, and Oliver had been sure he'd never feel quite this way again. " _Bill._ "

Summoning his wand, Bill looked up at Oliver and knew he'd get plenty more chances later to taste and touch, to spend hours in foreplay and teasing. But he also knew that Oliver needed much more than that just now, and Bill would have given him just about anything, anyhow. So he cast the charm to stretch and lubricate, and tossed his wand to the floor again. "I love you, Ollie," Bill whispered, hands kneading Oliver's hips. "So fucking much."

"I love you, Bill." Oliver focused almost desperately on Bill's face. "With all my heart." Still somehow afraid of scaring Bill off, Oliver tried to rein himself in. He knew he was too far gone too fast, but god. The _need_. "I'm sorry," he finally said and reached down to position Bill at his entrance, pushing back to take him inside.

Mouth open and eyes crossing, Bill would have asked what Oliver was sorry about, but he couldn't think beyond pushing up to meet Oliver, getting deeper, feeling more. Back and forth, deeper and deeper; Bill wished he wasn't lying down, if only so he could make it harder, deeper, _now_. "That's it," he gasped, fingers digging into Oliver's hips. " _Ollie_."

Oliver was beyond words, lost in the physical and emotional pleasure of having Bill in and under him again. It eased the constriction around his heart that had been there ever since he'd woken in his home to find himself alone. Once Bill was fully seated, Oliver held still as long as he could stand to, eyes closed and head back. His breath sighed out and he started to cry.

Bill pushed up with his elbows, sitting up as best as he could under Oliver. "Shhh..." he said, cupping the side of Oliver's face, brushing at his tears with a freckled thumb. "I've got you, love." Bill paused, trying to gather himself even though he was tangled in conflicting emotions; the need to _move_ , the need to comfort. "And you've got me. It's okay, pet."

"Sorry," Oliver said again, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He felt like such a _girl_ , and a gibbering one at that, not one like Angie, but he couldn't seem to control the wild swirl of emotions. Curling his hands securely over Bill's ribs and hooking his feet under Bill's knees, Oliver leaned to the side and took Bill with him until their positions were reversed, trusting Bill not to leave in disgust now that he was no longer pinned. "I'm sorry, I just - I'll do better. I promise. I'm okay."

Softly, Bill tried to kiss away Oliver's tears, knowing that they were partly his fault for how he'd treated the younger man in the past. For how he'd talked to Oliver when they'd rowed because he didn't want to see all these same emotions, strong and almost frighteningly so. It still made Bill a bit nervous, but then he'd never been as open as Oliver, never loved like this before he'd learned to hide so well. And Oliver always did everything at full bore, after all.

"I love you," Bill whispered, kissing Oliver's cheeks, the corners of his eyes. "I love you, I love you." He moved down Oliver's neck, down to his chest, the slide pulling him out of Oliver's tight, delicious body. "I love all of you," he murmured, kissing Oliver's navel. Bill's fiery hair was spread out around them, caressing their bare skin as Bill turned to nuzzle Oliver's cock, eyes half closed and lips smiling. "I love your body, I love your heart, I love _you_ even when I don't understand you."

Oliver's breath caught in his throat as Bill nosed at his cock. "I'll explain better," he said senselessly. It felt so _good_ ; Bill's hair sliding over his skin, Bill's hot breath washing over his cock and testicles. Bill's warmth spreading through him, easing the desperation he'd felt for ages. "I love you, and I don't get you at all either. You're brilliant. You feel so good. _I_ feel so good. Please suck me." Oliver bit his lip to stop the rambling, legs spreading open and shifting restlessly.

Bill pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses up the hard length of Oliver's cock, tongue flickering out to taste the familiar yet all-but forgotten salt of Oliver's skin. "Gladly," he purred, wanting to worship Oliver with his body, wanting to use every inch of himself to make his lover forget that he'd ever had a reason to cry. Bill sucked at the spot just under the crown of Oliver's cock, feeling the quick beat of Oliver's pulse under his tongue. "God, but I love the way you taste," he murmured, and parted his lips to let the head slide into the wet heat of his mouth, sucking hard on just that bit of spongy flesh.

"Oh god." Oliver pushed himself up on one elbow, his other hand moving to curl around the back of Bill's head, fingers tangling in his hair. "Oh _fuck_ , that's good." His head fell back and his eyes closed, but he forced them open and his head up so he could see his cock between Bill's lips. It was never as good with anyone else. Oliver sighed and let himself fall back to the bed again. He moaned, deep in his throat, and curled his fingers to stroke the nape of Bill's neck.

Humming, Bill swallowed and pulled more of Oliver into his mouth, loving the feel of Oliver's cock scraping against the hard palate on the roof of his mouth. Bill rubbed one hand along Oliver's side, petting him gently even as he hefted Oliver's testicles in one hand, caressing him, fingers flirting with his perineum. Taking a deep breath, Bill bobbed his head once and swallowed until Oliver's cock hit the back of his throat, and then Bill _moaned_ at how full his mouth was, how perfect Oliver tasted on his tongue, how he wanted to praise everything about this, but not nearly as much as he wanted to keep on sucking.

Oliver cried out as he fought not to thrust into the perfect wet heat of Bill's mouth. The vibrations from that moan shivered through him and he answered it with another moan of his own. His head thumped back into the mattress and he reached for Bill's hand at his side, pulling it away from his body so he could tangle their fingers together. "I love you," he gasped, grip tightening. "Oh god, I missed you so much."

Bill clenched his fingers in agreement, and began to move up and down, letting Oliver's cock slide between his lips over and over again, fucking Bill's mouth slowly, steadily. He wondered if Oliver had topped anyone in their time apart, if he'd learned how to do that, if he'd thought about Bill while he had. The image of Oliver with someone else made Bill growl, and he squeezed Oliver's hand as he gave a particularly hard suck as though to say _you're mine again and mine only_.

"Fuck!" Oliver said, writhing under Bill's mouth, hips moving now without his permission. "Oh. Oh, god, Bill, growl again. And fuck me. I want you inside me when I come, please, fuck me." Oliver's fingers were numb, he was holding Bill's hand so tightly, and he let go of Bill's hair so he could fist that hand in the bedding and tug. Need roared through him, accelerated by the fact that this was Bill's mouth on his cock, Bill's hand in his, Bill's hair spread over them. Bill, Bill, Bill. His very soul. "I need ye t'fuck me," Oliver said, his own voice a growl to rival Bill's, but thick with the rhythms of Scotland.

With one more dark growl, Bill let Oliver's cock slip free from his mouth, glistening with saliva. "Oliver," he rumbled, kissing his way up, swollen lips across heated skin. "Oh, Oliver... the things you make me want to do to you." He kissed up Oliver's neck, and nipped sharply at his lips as he rubbed the head of his cock against Oliver's still-slick hole.

"Do them," Oliver begged. He lifted his legs and wrapped them high around Bill's hips, put his hand back in Bill's hair. "Do everything. _Fuck me._ " Oliver lifted his head the inch necessary to press his mouth to Bill's hard, tongue darting inside to taste. He managed a smile against Bill's lips. "I'm yours, do whatever you want. Anything you want. Please."

" _Mine_ ," Bill growled, pushing into Oliver again, all the way in with one strong thrust. Chest heaving, panting, Bill let his head drop, and left messy kisses along Oliver's neck, teeth scraping.

Oliver cried out sharply, neck arching under Bill's mouth, hips arching into Bill's thrust. So good. So good, so good, oh god. It hurt in the best possible way, the way Terence had never managed, the way none of the now-nameless blokes had ever tried. "Yes," he hissed. "Oh, yessss. _Yours_."

Bill kissed back up to Oliver's mouth, grinding his hips, moving ever-so-slightly because he didn't want to pull out even enough to thrust just yet. They were touching and holding and twined together as closely as they could be, and there were no tears now, only relief and completion. This was what Bill had needed, what he'd been missing for so long, and he sighed, smiled and whispered, "I love you, Oliver." Then he pulled back, squeezed their still-joined hands, and pushed in again, angling to seek Oliver's prostate, wanting every second of this to be as amazing for Oliver as it was for him.

"I love you." In spite of the need still raging through him, Oliver felt so calm, down deep inside, his heart so full he thought it might burst. This was where he belonged. He cupped Bill's face, brought it back to his own to kiss Bill again, and then gasped into that kiss as Bill rubbed his prostate. He mewled, eyes rolling behind his now-closed lids. "Fuck," he panted, "do that again."

Laughing softly, grinning against Oliver's mouth, Bill did as he was asked, his cock rubbing against Oliver's prostate with each thrust as he started to move in earnest now. Oliver was making his noises again; those hot, honest noises that had always, from the very beginning, driven Bill absolutely mad with want. His stomach clenched and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as Bill shuddered and groaned, looking down at Oliver's face. "So gorgeous," he gasped, and finally let his eyes flutter shut as he moved.

Oliver was lost to the pleasure of Bill's body moving in his, of moving with him, being with him again after so long apart. Part of him felt he could stay just like this forever; part of him knew he wasn't going to last long at all. It had been too long since he'd felt this way, and even when he had it hadn't been nearly this strong and overwhelming. Because Bill loved him, and he loved Bill, and in spite of everything else they were finally together and good and right, and god. Oh god.

"I'm - Bill - I can't," Oliver gasped senselessly, "I'm going to - _please_ \- come. Bill!"

Bill groaned again, his forehead pressed to Oliver's and his free hand knotted in the bedding. "Not without you," he ground out. "Got you. I've got you..."

"Got you," Oliver echoed, and then his body seized as he came, squeezing Bill ruthlessly as he spilled between them.

Whimpering, Bill thrust once more and came as well, the air completely stolen from his lungs. All he could do was shake and cling and come, emptying himself into Oliver gladly, feeling the younger man's body still squeezing and twitching under and around him. Bill felt like he was flying apart, and he bit Oliver's shoulder again, right over the bruise from the day before. "Ollie," he panted, shaking and collapsing on top of Oliver. "Ollie, you're fucking amazing."

Oliver laughed breathlessly, completely pleased with himself and Bill and the world in general right then. "Amazing fucking," he said smugly, stroking Bill's back absently, holding him close as possible with his muscles still liquefied. "I love you so much," he breathed.

"Yes," Bill sighed, settling his weight. "I love you, too. I tried not to, and failed miserably." He grinned. "Fortunately."

"Only thing you've ever failed at, I expect." Oliver tightened his arms and legs around Bill, shifting just slightly to pull him impossibly closer. "Thank god. I don't honestly know how long I could have survived without you." Oliver bit his lip and shifted again - he hadn't actually meant to say that last part out loud. But he'd been so miserable, even though he would never have admitted it to anyone.

Bill murmured comfortingly and nuzzled Oliver's neck. "It's a bit overwhelming," he confessed. "How you feel, I mean. But I reckon," he added, lifting his head to make eye contact, "that in my own way, I feel just as much."

Oliver's eyes widened just slightly. "In your own way?" Oliver took a slow breath, determined not to overreact. Again. "What, I mean." He cleared his throat and tried again, but it came out in a whisper. "What's your way?"

"Just my way," Bill said with a shrug. "Quieter, maybe?" This was coming out wrong and Bill was beginning to think that maybe he ought to not be the one to bring up serious conversations anymore. "I'm not very good at this; I'm sorry, love." Shaking his head, Bill brushed his fingers over Oliver's face. "I'd gotten used to hiding what I felt and others doing the same for the most part before I met you. But you're not anything like that, and it's part of what kept me coming back again and again, you know." He sighed and kissed the tip of Oliver's nose. "I reckon what I'm saying is that even if I don't say it as much or anything, it doesn't mean I love you any less than you love me."

"Oh." Oliver could feel the relief roll through him, the smile spreading over his face. "That way." He brought one hand up to cup Bill's face. "You gave me the distinct impression that my way was part of the, er, problem. With me, I mean. I try to be less..." Oliver's voice trailed off when he couldn't find the right word. "Me," he finally said. "And I am doing better," he added quickly. "I just can't help it sometimes. I'll do better."

"As tempting as that would be," Bill said with a soft smile, "what with the peace and quiet and all, I like you as you. Mostly," he added with a light-hearted wink.

Oliver stuck his tongue out at Bill. "All or nothing," he said, and laughed, but then he sobered. "I'll do better," Oliver said again seriously. It had hurt too much to lose Bill before for Oliver not to do whatever was necessary to keep from losing him again.

"All right then," Bill said, grin going crooked. He had a feeling Oliver would relax once he saw Bill wasn't going to run away again. And Bill wouldn't, either. With a last kiss to Oliver's nose, Bill untangled himself from Oliver just enough to be able to pull Oliver into a proper cuddle, remembering at last to be careful of Oliver's ribs. He sighed happily, content for the first time in well over a year. "God, this feels good," he murmured, kissing whatever part of Oliver was nearest.

"Yeah," Oliver agreed, relaxing into Bill. He yawned and tightened his arm around Bill. "Be here when I wake up?" he mumbled. He didn't think he dared sleep, and didn't want to miss any time in Bill's arms anyway, even through he still felt tired, almost weak. "Please."

"You bet, love," Bill said, nose in Oliver's hair. "I can't stay all night, though; I'm supposed to be at my parents' house now, and they don't know. About me, that is."

"Okay," Oliver said, disappointed but he understood. His parents had no idea about this either. He blinked sleepily and pulled away to look at Bill. "You should go, then. They'll be worried." He managed a smile. "I just don't want to wake up and not know where you've gone." Leaning in, Oliver kissed Bill. "I can wait to sleep in your arms again."

Pulling Oliver in, firmly tucked against his body, Bill rolled his eyes. "You're not getting rid of me just yet, Ollie," he said, voice almost as warm as his skin. "I'm bloody well comfortable, and I fully intend to _make love_ , as you put it, at least once more before I have to go back to the Burrow and give some vague story about visiting a friend."

"Damn, and it was so close to working." Oliver smirked as he settled himself comfortably, snug against Bill's body. His hand began to trail lazily up and down Bill's spine. "What if I'm too tired?" he asked innocently, ducking his head to make sure his grin was well hidden. "I rather had a long day. Two days, actually."

Bill snorted. "I can't imagine _you_ ever being too tired to shag, pet," he chuckled against Oliver's hair, and then gave a great, theatrical sigh. "But, I reckon if you are, then I'll be forced to find a nice quite place to go and have a bit of a wank, now won't I? Just me and my hand, thinking about you and what I'm too good of a bloke to push for if you're not in the mood."

Oliver managed not to laugh. Barely. "You're too good to me," he murmured. "But there's no need to go. You could wank right here. Let me watch."

"So giving, that's what you are," Bill said, and pinched Oliver's backside gently. "I thought you needed to kip out for a bit?"

"I could be persuaded otherwise." Oliver bit lightly at the cord of Bill's throat in retaliation for the pinch. "We have a lot of time to make up."

"Somehow, I have a feeling we'll be able to take our time at that," Bill murmured, hooking a finger under Oliver's jaw and tilting his face up for a kiss. "If it helps," he added in the barest of whispers, "I need you. Need you to stay and give me the time to make it up to you, and just plain need you."

Oliver's expression softened as he leaned in just that little bit necessary to press their lips together. "It helps," he whispered back. "And I need you, too." Another slow, thorough kiss, and then Oliver said, "But the past is the past, and there's nothing to make up to me. We'll just make up lost time _together_. Because it was hardly only your fault."

Bill laughed softly, and smiled against Oliver's lips. "When'd you get so mature?" he asked, brushing his fingers over Oliver's cheek.

"What do you mean, _get_?" Oliver said, grin spreading over his face. He added loftily, "I've always been mature." And then he ruined it by snickering.

"Of course, how silly of me," Bill laughed. Still chuckling, he rolled over onto his back, pulling Oliver along so the younger man was sprawled across Bill's lanky body. God, but he'd missed Oliver so much, missed the way they fit together like this. Sobering slightly, Bill looked up at Oliver, happiness and contentment clear on his face. "When I heard you had someone," he murmured, "I felt like seven kinds of an arse for pushing you to do just that." He hadn't meant to say that, not right now, but it was out and Bill was finally beginning to get that this was the sort of thing Oliver _needed_ to hear.

Oliver's eyes darkened with remembered pain, though "Only seven?" was all he said.

"One for each day of the week," Bill explained, and then sighed. "But you seemed happier with him than I'd made you, and I'd spent so long trying to convince us both that you belonged with anyone not me..."

"I only belong with you." Oliver sighed too, one hand cupping Bill's face as he leaned in to share a slow kiss. "He loved me, but I - fuck." Oliver shook his head, lips curved down. "I hurt him so much," he whispered. Then his lips twitched. "But he never wanted to top."

Bill had been rubbing Oliver's back comfortingly until he said the last bit. "Never pictured you as a top," he said, latching onto the lighter topic. Now, of course, he was definitely picturing Oliver topping, and the idea sent a frisson of energy down his spine, where it turned into a warm and tight feeling of interest.

"No, me neither." Oliver laughed softly. "But he didn't want to ever, and I missed having sex." Oliver shrugged. "Well, I missed _you_ , but sex was the next best thing." Immediately Oliver felt guilty, because that wasn't fair to Terence. They'd been more than sex. "He loved me," Oliver said again lamely.

"I can't fault him for that," Bill murmured, nuzzling their noses together. "You're quite loveable. But I have to admit to being bloody well jealous he got to be the one to show you about topping. I was supposed to be introducing you to all the joys of shagging, after all." He kept his voice light, but inside there was a part of Bill that was squirming, quietly wondering how Oliver liked to move when he was on top, what his face looked like. "Did you like it? Topping, I mean?"

Oliver shrugged again. "Yeah," he said. "I'd rather have you inside me, but it was really good." Looking down at Bill, Oliver cocked an eyebrow. "I don't think you get to be jealous," he said softly. "You're the one who said I should shag other blokes."

Bill arched an eyebrow right back. "Then I take it back," he said. "You shouldn't shag other blokes, because the bank frowns on its employees getting brought up on assault charges."

"Too late now," Oliver said, fighting another grin. "After Ter, I sort of, er, well. Went a bit mad, I guess." Oliver flushed bright red. "But! I won't shag any _other_ blokes, I promise. So no need for assaults."

"I got the idea that had happened," Bill said, his face clearly showing he didn't really like it, but it was more that he'd pushed Oliver into it. Oliver, who had once been so determined that sex should mean something. "You're not the only one who went a bit mad, to be honest," he confessed, and then paused. "I'll tell you if you want to know," he offered.

Oliver's eyebrow climbed again and he considered Bill for several long seconds. "Do I want to know?" he finally asked, chewing his lower lip.

Deciding to at least give Oliver some of the knowledge he deserved to have, Bill had the grace to blush. "Let's just say that not the least of it was trying to drown myself in a bottle of firewhiskey and fucking my best mate. Or, rather, the other way around, since Nige doesn't bottom even when he's pissed as all bloody hell, it would seem."

"S'a bit mad, I guess," Oliver said slowly. They'd been drunk, he told himself, and it was just like him with Angie, only it wasn't at all like him and Angie, and... "You let _Nigel_ fuck you?" Oliver almost yelped. "After he said leave you alone he fucked you himself?"

Bill tried to back up, but he was pinned to the bed under Oliver's solid body. "I'd reckon that was the other way around, too," he said carefully, "since we fucked the day I got your letter telling me to piss off. He was only trying to help, and it _seemed_ like a good idea at the time. Besides," he added quickly, "we were both smart enough not to repeat it."

"Oh." That knocked the wind right out of Oliver's sails, and he bent to kiss Bill; nose, lips, jaw, ear. "I'm sorry," he breathed after each brush of lips against Bill's skin.

"So am I, baby," Bill murmured, kissing back. His lips twitched. "If it makes you feel any better, right after, Nige went on about how I should've had you fuck me."

Oliver laughed breathlessly. "He didn't," he said, face buried in Bill's chest. "Oh god. Is he always like that?" Then Oliver stilled and looked up at Bill. "Did you, I mean. Want me to fuck you?"

Bill thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged as best as he could manage. "I hadn't thought about it much, then," he admitted. "But it was a daunting prospect, since I don't really ever bottom and you'd never topped."

"What about now?" Oliver asked. The idea of being inside Bill instead of the other way 'round was, as Bill had put it, a daunting prospect but at the same time, it sent thrills running through Oliver's body. "Do you want me to fuck you now?" The aggression he'd learned with his fans, with Terence, began to bleed through the submissiveness that Bill always made him feel, that he'd fallen so naturally into again as soon as Bill had touched him at the World Cup campgrounds. He'd never be a top, not really, but he'd learned to enjoy taking charge.

Oliver shifted to the side to he could reach under Bill, squeezing one cheek before rubbing at his hole with one finger. "Do you want me here?" Oliver whispered roughly and leaned down to set his teeth lightly in Bill's chest.

"Mmm..." Bill hummed as casually as he could, despite the way his stomach clenched and his cock threatened to stir again, even this soon. The feel of Oliver's finger and the unfamiliar edge in his voice just _did_ something to Bill, and he shifted, parting his legs a bit more and bending one of his knees invitingly. "Now that's an idea..."

With a grin, Oliver licked at the red mark where his teeth had been and _pressed_ , the tip of his finger just barely entering Bill. "Something for you to think about, I suppose," Oliver said nonchalantly. "When you're _up_ to it."

Bill tried to laugh, but it came out strained. Biting off a swear word, Bill reached with the hand pressed between their bodies and cupped Oliver's semi-erect cock. "I'd say you're the one who needs to be _up_ for it, Ollie," he breathed, a teasing lift to his mouth.

"True," Oliver murmured. He pushed his finger in just a bit further and leaned up to bite at Bill's chin. "But you should be ready." Oliver kissed Bill, tongue flickering out to taste. "Should need as much as I do."

"I always," Bill said, clenching around the slight intrusion at the word _always_ , "want you, Ollie. The trick is to make me want it." His voice was rough, and Bill wrapped his hand around Oliver's cock and squeezed. "Do you think you can, pet?"

Oliver grinned, a smug, wholly carnal expression. "Oh, I can make you want it," he said. He kissed Bill harder as he crooked his finger, tugging at the ring of muscle from inside Bill's body. "Can you make me want to?"

Bill could feel his cock starting to swell, and he bit back a groan. "You'd be the one with your cock in my arse," he purred. "But if you don't want it," he added, arching a fiery eyebrow in challenge, "I reckon I'll just have to live with the last cock in me not being yours."

"You'd always wonder," Oliver said. He murmured a wandless charm and suddenly Bill was slick, Oliver's finger sliding smoothly deep. "How it would feel when I first pushed in, when the head of my cock finally got through, when I slid home and my balls brushed your arse." Contrary to the casual tone of his voice, Oliver's fingers were trembling as his free hand cupped Bill's face, holding on as the next kiss got more rough, edging toward uncontrolled. "But if you can live with it," Oliver finally said hoarsely, "I suppose I can too."

"I don't bottom," Bill said, but it sounded weak, even to him. Especially with the way he spread his legs even further, opening himself invitingly. "Nigel was away from the norm." His eyes fluttered, threatening to close, but somehow, Bill managed to keep them open. "And if you don't want to mark me, fill me, claim me, then I reckon I've no choice." Stroking Oliver's cock, Bill swallowed heavily and knew desire burned in his eyes, just like in Oliver's. "Don't you want to fuck me, Ollie-boy?"

"I don't top," Oliver said as he worked another finger into Bill. "Terence was exceptional, in more ways than one." In, in, in; Oliver held his fingers barely apart as he thrust them steadily, fucking Bill with them. Throat working, Oliver looked at Bill, at the fire in his deep blue eyes, that fire-coloured hair spread in a nimbus around his head. "God, you're beautiful," Oliver whispered finally. "I can't believe you're mine." He smiled faintly and smugly. "I don't need to fuck you to claim you."

"But you could," Bill said, lips glancing over the tip of Oliver's nose. He groaned softly, head flopping back against the pillow. "God, that feels good, love."

"I could," Oliver agreed on a whisper. He quickly pulled his fingers free and cast the charm again to slick his cock, hands shaking almost too hard for him to be able position himself. Almost. He was in place and began to push, closing his eyes as they crossed because holy fuck, Bill was tight, and it was _Bill_ , and Oliver still could hardly believe it wasn't a dream. "Mine," Oliver said roughly and pushed harder. " _Mine_."

Bill gasped as Oliver pushed in, his head pushed back against the pillow and his eyes closed as he hooked one long leg around Oliver's waist, arching up to meet him. It burned perfectly, searing through him right down to his soul, and Bill could only clench around Oliver's cock as he tried to take him deeper. Mouth working wordlessly, Bill blindly slid his hands over Oliver's ribs, needing to touch and feel as much as possible right then. "Yours," he finally managed, breathless and scarcely audible. "Oh fuck, _yours_."

Oliver was finally home. Fully inside Bill for the first time, and Bill completely in his heart, completely his. "I love you," he whispered, pressing his forehead to Bill's shoulder. "Oh god. So much." He pressed his lips to Bill's chest, shifted to kiss and nip at Bill's throat. After several long moments spent just feeling Bill around him, Oliver started to move, pulling slowly out just so he could push back in again.

Shuddering under Oliver, Bill cried out softly and turned his head to the side, exposing his throat. "More," he panted, trying to pull Oliver closer, his fingers digging insistently. "Baby, I love you, need you. Give me more, _now_."

The endearment shot straight to Oliver's heart, breaking his control, slim as it was. He cried out and began to thrust, setting a hard fast pace. "Mine," he gasped again. "Give you everything." He bit at Bill's throat again and then shifted just enough to reach between them and curl one hand around Bill's cock. "Come," he demanded, then, "Please."

Bill shook his head. "Not yet," he whimpered, trying to push up to Oliver's thrusts and into his hand, holding onto himself as best as he could. "Make it last. Fuck, so good." He was close, so close he could have come without a thought, no matter that this was his second time today. Oliver just robbed him of nearly all his control, and Bill struggled for air, pulling Oliver in, nipping at his lips. "Kiss me," he ordered as best as he could.

Oliver kissed him, nipping back before diving into a series of hard kisses, their teeth clacking together as Oliver tried to kiss him deeply without slowing the rhythm of his hips. "Need you," he moaned, biting at Bill's chin before going back to his lips. "Forever." Pleasure was rolling through Oliver, robbing him of conscious thought, leaving him only the desperate noises he couldn't control. So close. He was so close, and fought the coming explosion as long as he could. He didn't want it to end, not yet.

 _Oh god_ , the noises Oliver was making were so unbelievable, almost as good as the feel of Oliver inside of him, filling him, fucking him, driving into him again and again, and Bill cried out desperately. He was lost, gone, moving on pure instinct alone and the need to feel more of this, to be filled again and again and _again_. Bill opened his eyes, pupils gone wide and black, the sight of Oliver straining above him making Bill whimper with the need to come.

"Bill," Oliver rasped. "Bill, _please_." He had wanted Bill to come first but he couldn't hold back any longer. He thrust two, three more times, then shoved in hard as his orgasm hit. At the same time, Bill gave a hoarse shout and came as well, thrust up and bearing down as Oliver hit his prostate, making the hairs all over Bill's body stand on end as he shuddered deliciously. Collapsing heavily on Bill, Oliver gasped for breath, fine tremours running through him as he kissed warm sweaty skin. "Bill," he murmured again, just to say it, just because he could. "Bill."

"That's my name, love," Bill breathed, knowing he had an enormously goofy grin on his face and not caring at all. He felt absolutely brilliant, all loose limbs and liquid pleasure, and he barely had the strength to wrap his arms around Oliver, though he did anyway.

Oliver snorted out a soft laugh. "Really?" he said as innocently as he could manage, and then he buried his face in Bill's throat and just laughed. He felt so good, finally felt so happy, finally had hope for the future again.

Bill laughed back, and squeezed Oliver gently. "That was brilliant, Ollie," he finally said once he'd gathered enough brains to make any sort of sense. "But I still rather it the other way around for the most part."

"Me too," Oliver murmured, pulling free of Bill's body with slight grimace and a sigh. He settled himself along Bill's side, tangling their legs together. "It's why Terence and I never would have worked in the long term, I think." His lips curved down, and he distracted himself by kissing Bill's chest. "One day it hit me I'd become a top and I couldn't quite figure when it had happened."

"It really hurt you," Bill said, kissing Oliver's hair. "To lose him, didn't it?" Jealousy threatened, but at the same time there was that same old sadness at the idea of Oliver hurting.

"Not as much as it hurt him," Oliver whispered. "As _I_ hurt him. That's the worst part." Oliver lifted his head to look at Bill, trying to smile but not quite managing it. "But he wasn't you, and I couldn't let you go."

"I'm sorry it had to be that way," Bill said, kissing Oliver's forehead. "And I'm sorry someone you care for got hurt. But at the same time..." He shrugged and had the grace to look sheepish. "I'd like as not have tried to steal you away anyhow, you know."

"Steal me away?" Oliver cocked an eyebrow at Bill, lips twitching in spite of himself. The thought that Bill might have wanted him back, that long ago, was quickly restoring both his good humour and his pleasure at finally being exactly where he was again.

Bill laughed and nodded. "You'd best believe it," he said, grinning. "As Nigel pointed out when I was whinging about wanting you back and getting you to forgive me, I said you should date other blokes, but not for how long."

"I always did like Nigel," Oliver said, grinning. "Almost always," he amended as he thought of those owls. Shaking his head slightly as if to shake the thought away, Oliver let his grin widen again. "I'd like to actually meet him sometime."

"Most people 'almost always' like Nige," Bill said with a laugh. "Then he starts talking." Dropping a kiss on the tip of Oliver's nose, Bill relaxed back against the pillow, eyes glancing over the strange, glowing display of the bedside clock. It was past time he went back to the Burrow, and Bill sighed. "I've got to go soon, baby," he murmured.

"Okay," Oliver said reluctantly. He levered himself up to kiss Bill slowly, rubbing their noses together before kissing him again. Still nuzzling, Oliver softly asked, "You'll be around for awhile, though, right? I mean, you aren't going from the Burrow straight to Egypt."

Bill managed a small smile and kissed the corner of Oliver's mouth. "I'm here for the rest of the summer," he said. "Until the kids are back in school, at the least. I hope you know I plan to tempt you away from responsible things like practise and sleep at every opportunity, yes?"

"You had better," Oliver said, nuzzling his nose along Bill's again. "I'll get a flat soon as I can, instead of staying in the team quarters." He fought not to give in to the frown. He didn't want to think about Bill leaving England. "And you can stay with me when you're here, instead of _here_ ," he said, gesturing at the hotel room.

"At least until that transfer goes through," Bill agreed, squeezing Oliver. "Then I'll be up here all the time and you'll be right sick of me in no time, I'm sure."

"I'll manage," Oliver said dryly, and then laughed softly. "So you did put in for it, then. I'm so glad." Oliver wrapped himself around Bill again, holding him tightly for several long seconds. "I'm going to stay here until morning, and see about getting that flat before checking in with the team tomorrow." He kissed behind Bill's ear. "You go let your mum know you're fine."

Humming quietly, Bill nuzzled Oliver's ear. "All right," he murmured, and then laughed softly. "Not," he added with a grin, "that I really want to go anywhere, mind you."

Oliver pulled back enough to smile down at Bill. "I'd rather you stay too. But from what Percy's said, your mum's the type to send out search parties if she doesn't know where you are." He bent and kissed the centre of Bill's chest. "I'll owl you and let you know where the flat is, so you can find me."

"Actually..." Bill said, wiggling out from under Oliver to reach over the bed. He grabbed his jeans, fished in one of the pockets and pulled out a tangled leather cord with a flat, round stone hanging from it. "I can always find you."

Distracted somewhat from their conversation by the nude freckled arse before him, Oliver took a moment to recognize the thing in Bill's hand. His own hand flew to his throat, as if he wouldn't find the cord and pendant he had never removed. He curled two fingers between the leather and his throat with an unconscious sigh of relief and lifted an eyebrow at Bill. "You can?"

Bill held out the necklace on the palm of his hand, the familiar curve of the stone, the same as the one Oliver wore, comfortable there like always. "It's the key to the location charm I put on yours," he admitted, blushing faintly. "It's how I found you last night, and last year, too."

Oliver's mouth fell open, and then he grinned. "Well. Considering the shape I was in when you got to me last night, I can't very well be upset about it, can I?" Reaching out, Oliver traced the stone with one finger and then wrapped his fingers around Bill's wrist, pressing the stone between their open palms. "You never were going to really let me go," Oliver murmured, smiling smugly.

"Not telling," Bill said, grinning crookedly. Tugging, Bill pulled Oliver in for a kiss, sucking once on his lower lip. "But I got what I wanted in the end, now didn't I?"

"You definitely did." Oliver's head fell to Bill's shoulder as he laughed, hard. He finally rolled over onto his back, hands falling to rest on his stomach as he kept laughing helplessly.

"Glad I amuse you so," Bill said, grinning. Shoving playfully at Oliver, Bill rolled his eyes and climbed out of bed, leaving the necklace on the bedside table. "I'm going to take a shower while you amuse yourself, pet."

Oliver's laughter faded into a grin as he watched Bill walk into the loo. _So bloody gorgeous_ , he thought. Rolling onto his side, Oliver grabbed a pillow to curl around. Without Bill to talk to, to touch, Oliver felt the strain of the last two days creeping in. With a yawn he closed his eyes. He'd just rest for a minute, just until Bill was done in the shower, and then he'd send him off to the Burrow.

Bill showered quickly, and came out of the bath with a towel slung about his narrow hips and his hair dripping down his back. Oliver was asleep, curled on his side and holding a pillow, and Bill smiled fondly as he pulled on his jeans; like this, Oliver looked younger than he was when they met. A part of Bill wondered, even now, if he wasn't still guilty of taking Oliver's youth and opportunities at living free of entanglements. But at the same time, Bill had accepted that Oliver really did love him, that this -- that _Bill_ \-- was what he wanted. That love was what they both felt, and that it was much more than just the foolish dream he'd once thought it was.

Toweling his hair off and still looking at Oliver, Bill went around the room gathering the rest of his clothes. Once he was dressed, Bill sat on the edge of the bed and picked up his necklace, wrapping the thong around his hand before curving his fingers over Oliver's shoulder. "Ollie," he sing-songed. "Ollie, it's time to wake up."

Oliver smiled, lips curving slowly as he tightened himself around the pillow. "Bill," he murmured, then more clearly (although not much) he said, "M'not asleep."

Bill chuckled at that. "Are too," he said, hand sliding down Oliver's arm and over his waist.

"Nope," Oliver answered, stretching under Bill's hand and rolling to his back, his own hand falling to hold Bill's on his stomach. He slowly opened his eyes and smiled up at Bill. "See?"

"Proven wrong again," Bill said with a smirk. Leaning over, he braced himself with one hand on the mattress, leaving the other one on Oliver's warm stomach, and brushed their lips together. "Nice nap, gorgeous?"

Oliver made an affirmative sound and reached up with his free hand to cup Bill's face. "Time to go?" he asked softly, trying not to let the regret come through in his voice. He knew that, however much he might wish it, they couldn't stay shut away from the world forever. He stroked his thumb over Bill's cheek.

"Yeah," Bill breathed, kissing the tip of Oliver's nose. "As it is, I'm liable to get my ears boxed when my mum sees me." He sighed and sat back, thumb absently stroking Oliver's abdomen as he managed a smile for his lover. "I'll miss you though," he added, and then grinned because it just felt _that good_ to be able to say that.

Shifting, Oliver sat up and took the pendant from Bill's hand. He picked open the knot, put the leather around Bill's neck, and retied the pieces together before tugging it around so that the knot was at the back of Bill's neck and the stone resting in the hollow of his throat. "I'm always with you," he said quietly, fingers resting lightly on the stone.

Bill swallowed heavily around a strange lump in his throat and pulled Oliver's fingers to his lips. "Love you, baby," he whispered, eyes glistening as he shakily kissed Oliver's fingers again and again. And again. "Love you."

"I love you," Oliver said. He smiled, his complete and utter joy almost painfully obvious. Oliver leaned forward to rest his forehead against Bill's.

Fortunately his heart was safe in Bill's hands. And now they _both_ knew it.

~~~*~~~

  
 _~fin~_

♥♥♥


End file.
